


L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle

by haroldsgucciboots



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bottom Louis, Long-Term Relationship(s), M/M, Supportive Relationships, Top Harry, Young Harry, Young Louis, larry stylinson - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-08
Updated: 2018-04-08
Packaged: 2019-04-20 08:26:39
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14256918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haroldsgucciboots/pseuds/haroldsgucciboots
Summary: Louis is a young art student that struggles to fit in at school and faces problems at home as well. One day he meets the new student, Harry that moved from England to Milan, looking for a fresh start for his family, and things might just get a little bit better. Louis can't explain his affection for this boy. After hours spent in the artroom together, laying in the sun and later on sharing kisses under the rain in the streets of Milan, they understand how much they mean to one another and are not willing to ever let it go.Out of all the cities of the world, out of all the fates they could have been assigned, they shared the same one.





	L'amor che move il sole e l'altre stelle

A crackling speaker communicates to the passengers they will shortly be landing, as a skinny blond hostess walks down the aisle, occasionally pointing her long bony finger to the window, the seat in front, the armrests, instructing each person she passes.  
"Ehm... excuse me, would you mind please lowering that armrest?" A low grumble follows her question as a boy with a knotty mess of curly brown hair lifts his head "No...no problem at all" the boy answers, a little too excitedly,  _what does a fucking lifted armrest even change?_    
"Harry is everything all right? You look a bit pale" his mum asks;  _well maybe because that bloody hostess just interrupted my wonderful sleep??_

"Yeah everything's great, I’m just a bit tense, but I can't wait to get to Milan!"

The truth is Harry would throw himself out of the bloody window, if it would mean avoiding the tragic fate his mum had chosen for him, but he isn't quite sure he'd fit into one of those portholes the plane has and knowing her, she probably would go after him. 

  
He is looking out now, into the cold and wet night. Making out the houses, as small as pieces of Lego and the cars; running lights that chase each other over and over and sooner than he thought, he feels the wheels touch the runway and he's about to begin a new chapter of his life, and the thought terrorises him.

 

* * *

 

  
"LOUUUIS DINNER'S READY!" 

  
"COMIIIIING!" 

  
It's the last day of summer holidays and school starts tomorrow.

Louis is pacing up and down his room looking for his English homework and occasionally cursing, okay more constantly than occasionally, but he is really furious.   
"There you are! Mum's getting really cross, it's very rude of you not to come to the table when you're called" His brother Liam politely reminds him, while a look of disgust spreads across his face as he notices the growing piles of dirty clothes and sheets all over the floor. "Yeah yeah I know..." Louis mutters following his brother to the kitchen. Mum got out the red tablecloth, for special occasions, and a champagne bottle stands at the centre on the table surrounded by an enormous amount of food, that seems really redundant, making Louis a little sick.

"Mother you have really outdone yourself!" Liam cheerfully announces, Louis wonders if he might not be dressed for the occasion, but not being bothered to go and change, he keeps chewing on a raw carrot, perched on a chair in his grey sweatpants.

"Now Louis, why don't you leave that carrot alone and go and get the crystal glasses?" His mother suggests, "But I love carrots!" The boy protests, only receiving a hard look from his brother "What?" He asks Liam, clearly annoyed... He does love carrots, he thinks, as he places the flutes on the table.

When his father arrives, he is welcomed by praises and smiles as they talk about his recent work successes, being a very popular lawyer. His brother and mum listen in awe and Louis is just waiting for them to clap by the end of his father's story, they seem on the verge of tears. "...and that is how we managed to get the..."

_oh thank god this nightmare of a story is over,_  he mumbled an apology, got up and headed out of the dining room, leaving everyone perplexed. He couldn’t stand his father’s dirty looks as he noticed Louis for what seemed like the first time, only half way through the dinner.   
  
He made a quick job of undressing himself and got under the shower, hoping the hot rush of water could wash off the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He wasn't sure what had gotten into him at dinner: he usually behaved himself with the family and answered politely, but tonight he just couldn't stand them... with their false flattery and crystal glasses clinging together in a chorus of  _congratiulations!_  for Louis' father as always. The sound makes Louis' nerves tingle and his cheeks flush as he looks at his family and notices how far apart he feels, as if he were looking from behind a pane of glass at actors playing the part of a happy family he isn't a part of.

The bathroom is getting steamy and humid as Louis just stands there staring at his feet against the white marble of the shower floor, so lonely in the darkness of the bathroom and he disappears in the water drumming on his skin, pushing him down, away from reality.

 

* * *

 

 

"So this is it..." Gemma announces as they walk through the door of their new apartment. Mum thanks the porter: an old man with bright red cheeks, you can barely make out, behind the precariously balancing pile of suitcases he is struggling to hold. A little blue cap peaking at the very top of the tower and a pair of worn shoes are the only clues that the suitcases aren't actually levitating, even though the poor porter is currently praying they could.

"Oh nown see prouccupy signor Romeo" Anne exclaims in a very sure tone, smiling. She gestures for the old man to drop the cases, Mr. Romeo does as he is instructed without questioning it and sighs, relieved.

"If you need me coal!" He tells Anne, with his thick italian accent, bringing his left hand towards his ear with pinky and thumb outstretched to mimic a phone. Anne smiles and kindly dismisses him, and he vanishes down the hall, murmuring something under his breath.

The rest of the night is spent unpacking; the apartment is already furnished, Anne had flown in a month ago to make sure everything was in order, however there aren't any sheets on the bed, towels in the bathroom or food in the kitchen and Harry is absolutely starving;  _is there a Mc Donald's anywhere near?_

"Mum, what's for dinner?" He cautiously asks, not wanting to seem ungrateful. "I was thinking about pizza, is that alright?"

Harry thought that was great, it had been a   very   long   day.

 

* * *

 

 

"Do you have any idea what time it is?" Liam scowls from the door. He is answered by a sound resembling the lament of a gnu that lost its herd; "Louis Tomlinson! It's five to seven! Fiiiiiiive to ssseveeeen" Louis opens one eye, annoyed, only to peek at his brother, who stands with his hands on his hips and a disapproving look painted on his face.

"Fiiiiiiiive to sssseven! Oh no!" Louis mocks with an exaggerated amount of sarcasm and "esses", placing a hand on his forehead dramatically. "Oh piss off Louis, if you don't wake up, mum will shout at you, I'm jus..." but he doesn't have time to finish, because his brother goes on teasing him "Liam! Did you just say a bad word?"

Louis starts giggling uncontrollably as Liam exits the room accepting his defeat, leaving his brother to sit in a pile of blankets. Louis usually gets up quite early in the morning, because the only time his parents can drop him off at the station is half seven, he _does_  get up, but not without numerous complaints and insults, if it's a particularly bad morning, that are usually directed to whoever is in the vicinity, but mostly Liam.

However, this morning he has no intention of getting to school on time. No way.

  
It's not like he hates school, he understands the importance of education and he likes being knowledgeable, but the pressure of exams and deadlines causes so much stress in people’s lives, they can't have any personal interest and it's so fucked up they'd rather lie to all their family than sit that damned biology test.

And that is exactly why and what Louis is gonna do today:  **bail**.

Another problem with school is people, he doesn’t understand the complicated mechanics of relations, and he has the tendency to overanalyse every detail of people’s behaviour, obsessing over something they said or did that made him feel unwelcome or not good enough.

So he spends most time alone, a paintbrush resting between his long, slender fingers. To be perfectly honest he’d had a few friends, but people got tired of him as soon as they found out his complex personality... 

He spends time admiring himself in the mirror noticing he has some bags under his eyes, so, since he has all the time in the world, he slips his hand in the first drawer and pulls out his mother's pink little tube with a creamy substance he saw her put under her eyes multiple times. He dabs some on, until he thinks his lack of sleep was well hidden. It isn't exactly his skin tone, so he has a halo of pale cream under his eyes, that contrasts with the rest of his tanned face.

He goes back to his room, grabs his blue jeans, wears his blue top with the school logo, slips on his vans and ties the laces. He checks the time: 7:10  _perfect_ , he usually leaves at this time.

His mum walks in, pyjamas still on and slippers on feet, she mumbles something about him being late all the time then turns around and goes back to her room. Louis grabs his phone, wallet and charger and heads downstairs.   
"Louis we are gonna be late. You have two minutes" his dad warns; his son complains about there only being half a litre of milk, he tends to drink a lot of it, and then asks to pass the Frosties.

"Are you done?" His dad exclaims impatiently, Louis lifts his gaze, annoyed, and stares at his dad; his blue eyes fading into grey. It looks like he could do with some of the coloured cream he stole from the cupboard. "Almost" he replies slowly, putting the cereal in the bowl one flake at a time, he then turns round towards his father and gives him a big cheeky smile that makes his eyes squint, shaking the box as if to say "Thank you, you can put it away for me now".

  
By the time they get in the car, his dad is furious and he honks his horn desperately to try and get Louis, who has "forgotten his bag”, to hurry up. "Louis I have an incredibly important meeting this morning at nine and it could determine the entire successfulness of my career...." "Louis! Do you understand what trouble you have caused young boy?"

Louis really can't care less, he is used to being told off a hundred times and never being good enough for the family. He is always the source of all unhappiness in their eyes and he is sick of it, but because he knows his father too well, he can only agree with him. "I am very sorry... I didn't mean to, I took a shower and lost track of time".

His dad drives like crazy, the Mercedes sprints on the black tarmac, through the dull green of the fields, the grey of the town and over the steamy silver of the river in the cold morning, to come to a sudden stop, which causes the boy to bang his head on the door, at the bright neon lights and purple pillars of the deserted station.

Louis' train is ready to leave at platform 2.

His Dad is waiting for him to go so he can drive off and get to his appointment, so the boy gets out and runs, not wanting to anger him even more. He makes it just as the doors close, but he couldn't have missed it without it being obvious. "Beep", the doors lock, and Louis is trapped in that sad reality of loud chatter and cramped limbs. His eyes start to tingle.

On the train Louis doesn't particularly enjoy reading because he is a fast reader, and in his opinion, it makes the never-ending journey seem even longer. As the time passes, the sky's dull blanket of greys starts opening up and through the rips and tears you can see little corners of washed out blue.

He observes the people and guesses at which stops they are getting off, based on the way they sit and what they wear. He is right about the girl perched on her seat, slightly facing the corridor and with her coat on: she gets off at the next one. The man right in front of him instead takes off his expensive looking coat and places his computer on his lap, so, much to Louis' dismay, he is probably going to sit with his outrageously long legs in the way until they get into the centre.

Louis has to ride to the North-East of town, 45 minutes, 9 stops and a great coming of going of all sorts of people: tall business men with strong colognes, construction workers in their clumpy tattered boots, students with music spilling from their headphones and a heard of women with mouths larger than their bright shiny handbags.

The movement of the train and the warmth created by his fluffy jacket and the heating system brings him to a state of numbness and he is about to fall asleep when the doors beep again: he has arrived.

Off the train and in the station, Louis fades into the mass of people, that push him towards the exit.

Instead of taking the first one, that leads to the main road where his school is, he turns to the left swiftly and gets sucked up in the crowd once again as he disappears into the underground.

If there is one thing he absolutely loathes, it’s taking the metro in the morning, filled with rude strangers a little less stinky than in the afternoon and no place to sit, almost ever... It raises his stress levels to the stars and he counts the stops over and over again, thinks about which side the doors are going to open on, how to get to the exits of the station trying to avoid all possible human interaction.

He only continues till the central station and then changes direction and heads to school unfortunately. Going back and forth in the metro, he’s gained almost enough time to arrive after 9:05, which is when the physical education buses leave with the students in his year, he really can't handle that the first day back after break.

Certain he has avoided the problem, he quickens his pace. When he reaches school, he signs in at the reception, offering a shy tight smile to the secretary and heads for the main building. Just then he notices a group of students coming down the stairs to the courtyard,  _crap_ , Louis internally curses, then checks his watch  _9:04 Damn it!_  He’s starting to panic, worrying he’s going to get caught and will be dragged to the lesson anyway, then, in noticing he also didn't have his PE uniform, it would have been obvious his "delay" was all a smug plan to skip swimming.

While the thoughts run through his head he doesn't notice he is walking right into a boy of about his age he doesn’t recognize with a tangle of curly hair; without looking up he mumbles an apology and runs into the school. 

 

* * *

 

 

 

 

> _"Had it been another day_  
>  _I might have looked the other way_  
>  _And I'd have never been aware_  
>  _But as it is I'll dream of her_  
>  _Tonight, di-di-di-di'n'di"_

  
The music resonates out of the crackling speakers of the new car Harry's mum has already been offered by her boss. It’s a red Audi 80 B1 and Harry absolutely loves it.

The whole family is singing along to the Beatles, Anne driving in the front with Gemma at her side and Harry in the back, face squashed between the two seats, a wide grin on his face.

His mother occasionally exclaims “ _Shoot!”_  or " _Crap!_ ” As she slowly starts to get used to driving on the right, causing an outburst of laughter from Gemma and Harry.

They turn down a main road, following the navigator on Gemma's phone she holds on her lap,  _perks of driving an old-fashioned car_... Gemma directs her mum to continue on that road for 10 minutes and the school will then be on their left.

Harry is both excited and nervous for his first day, but it is in those moments close to his family, singing to old tunes all together, that he knows everything is going to be alright because he has Anne and Gemma and it's all he could have asked for.

Just a day ago he had been reluctant to hand his ticket to the hostess at the gate of the airport, as he contemplated turning and sprinting, but now he's almost impatient to get inside the imposing grey building on his right.

His mum and Gems swap seats and Harry gets out the back, he waves at his sister and his mum kisses her: "Be careful driving! Last thing we want is too damage Mr. Moore's Audi!" Gemma laughs at her mother's apprehension then retorts with sarcasm "Thanks a lot mum, you just told me I can't drive and that this car is worth more than me!"

"Well it is" Harry points out, earning raised eyebrows from Gemma, as well as a surprised look as if to say "seriously?" with a trace of fondness she fails to conceal. After waving them both off smiling she disappears down the road in a red blur. 

Harry's new school is relatively small compared to his old one but he’s hopeful that he'll learn to like the place eventually, right now it looks foreign, a grey block hidden from the road by tall hedges. There is a set of stairs leading to the main building that forms a C shape with the reception on the right end. His mum leads the way, and they introduce themselves to a young fair skinned woman with a bright red smile and short blond hair that reached her shoulders. After smiling at Harry and shaking both their hands, Ms. Ostberg, as it says on her name tag, leads them to the principal’s office.

The waiting room is dimly lit with neon lights that taint every object a blueish reflection. Mother and son sit quietly, waiting for the black door to open. After about enough time for Harry to be bored but not enough for him to succumb to tiredness and fall asleep; a tall, slender man with a few hairs on his head and a black suit that hangs loose on his skinny frame, comes to greet them.

He has thin spidery legs and thin features, everything about him is thin, it looks like he could have just walked out from one of the Modigliani paintings on the wall of his office behind him. As he recognizes Anne his mouth goes from a thin line to an open smile framed by two red blotches on his cheeks.

"Oh Anne! It's wonderful to see you" the man exclaims in a posh British accent, pulling Anne in for an embrace that seems out of place with the serious demeanour the man showed at first

"And you are Harry" he states, gripping Harry's hand and shaking it vigorously, a tight lipped smile on his face. "We are honoured to have you attend our school, and your mother will be a great asset to the staff!" He tells Harry.

The principle turns around and starts fiddling with the land line, as Harry and Anne sit down. The office is very small, or perhaps the piles of paper and books make it seem smaller than it actually is.

Mr. Flint has quite a collection spread out over his desk and on the shelves to his right. He sits at a black leather office chair and the visitors sit in front of him on a red sofa, all around them on the walls are the students' art pieces framed and displayed proudly. Mum and Mr. Flint talk for what seems like hours, they are quite confidential, he is a friend of hers from college and they kept in touch, as soon as he heard Anne was looking for a job he offered her a place as an art teacher in the school and quite a generous pay check. Harry recognized he had been very kind and knew he ought to feel grateful towards this man.

A knock on the door shakes him out of his thoughts,"come in" Mr Flint says dryly and a boy Harry's age comes walking in.

He is tall with silky black hair that falls in front his cloudy eyes that skim over Harry for a moment, then rest on Mr Flint. "You called for me sir?" He inquires in a brassy voice.

"Yes mr Malik, as you can see Harry is new to our school, he is starting today in fact, he will be joining year 11 in Mr Beorn's class, I would ask you to please keep an eye out for him and show him around the first couple of days as he will probably feel a little disorientated and we want all our new students to always feel welcome" He concludes smiling at Harry as an encouragement.

The boy, Mr Flint called Malik stands upright, but his expression suggests he was bored of Mr Flint's voice as soon as he started his verbose introduction, however he recomposes and with a nod of his head and an "of course". He leaves the office, leaving the door open for Harry to follow but not checking he is actually following.

The boy leads Harry up three flights of stairs in complete silence, then pauses in the middle of the corridor, turns around and thinks something to himself as if evaluating what he wants to know, then asks: "Where did you come from?" His tone suggests he’s genuinely interested.

Harry is a little startled by the suddenness of the seemingly random question, but he tries nonchalantly "Uh, My family lived in a small town 30km south of Manchester"   
  
"Your family being?"  
  
"My mum, my sister and I"  
  
"The new art teacher..." he realizes  
  
"Yeah...Yes, she is going to teach here... uhm, do you take art as a subject?"  
  
"Yes curly, matter of fact I do" he replies with a grin.  
  
The conversation dies just after it has begun and Harry is even more intrigued by the boy after the short conversation they just had that revealed nothing but a hint of sarcasm on his behalf. As if he could sense Harry's thoughts the boy continues:  
  
"I'm Zayn, by the way. I know it sucks being the new kid and all that stuff but you can call me if you need me... This is our class" The boy, Zayn, explains and opens the door to reveal Harry's worst nightmare.   
  
Before they arrived, Harry wanted to go back to England, but he knew how important this opportunity to move abroad was for his mum, so he was going to try his best. He could see both Anne and Gemma were doing all they could to make him feel comfortable and supported in what was one of the scariest moments of his life. The new apartment was very big, he was going to decorate his room this weekend to make it feel more his. This morning he already felt better and actually couldn't wait to get to school, but now he’s having second thoughts.

Around 20 people, between boys and girls are squished in a tiny computer lab, their long limbs outstretched on the plastic chairs, desks and even on the windowsill where a girl with auburn hair sits crunching an apple.   
All heads lift and stare at Harry, it’s like standing in front of a prairie of meercats that curiously poke the curly haired boy with their gaze. Zayn leaves Harry's side to approach a big wooden desk that a huge bear-like figure is hunched over. Talking in a low growl, he calls out the names of the students in front of him, that reply with a “Yes sir”, then get back to chattering or playing on the computers.

“Roman?”

“Yes sir”

“Tomlinson?

…Absent again”

 Zayn approaches the man and whispers something in his ear, suddenly his attention is brought to Harry: “Oh, Hi there!” Now that Harry finally sees the man’s face, he notices a pair of dark brown heavy eyes, hidden by two bushy eyebrows; a long pronounced nose and a crooked smile, that makes his watery eyes betray a vivacious gleam.

“Well why don’t you introduce yourself boy?” The man kindly suggests.

Harry nods, hesitantly “Hi, I’m Harry” the room is a chaos of voices and Harry’s own is drowned by the laughter of a group of girls to his right and the arguments the boys are having on the left.

“ENOUGH! WILL YOU BE QUIET IMMEDIATELY!”

The seemingly quiet form tutor that had just encouraged Harry to speak up, is now hovering over the class, his eyes glistening with fury and his mouth open in a snarl. Harry’s quite taken aback by the transformation he just witnessed.

“Don’t worry, he tends to lose his temper sometimes, because he hates when they don’t listen, but he’s a good guy after all, you’ll get used to him” Zayn has noticed Harry got a bit nervous as the teacher erupted, so he moves next to him and reassures him. Harry is clenching and unclenching his fists, staring at the ground trying to focus on his breathing.

_You got this Styles, you’re here now so try your best. You can’t give up without even trying_

Now that the class has been silenced, after even the last few giggles have been cut off, everyone is staring at the curly haired boy standing at the front of the room.

Harry slowly lifts his gaze, to meet the girl with auburn hair’s eyes, a silent challenge posed in between the deafening scrunching of an apple.

He can feel everyone’s eyes on him as well as Zayn’s right beside him, so he takes a deep breath.

“Hi, I’m Harry, I’m sixteen and I’m from near Manchester”

_Wow breathing again feels good_.

The class holds his gaze for a few more seconds, then suddenly the state of loud confusion is restored.

“Good lad, now come” Zayn ushers him towards the left side of the computer lab.

They find a space to sit next to Zayn’s friends, which he introduces briefly: “That’s Niall” he says, pointing at a blond boy that grips Harry’s hand in a firm handshake, offering a wide smile.

“That’s Ashton” a brown eyed, blond boy with dimples grins.

“Calum” a dark-haired boy with a beanie waves at him.

“Michael” a guy with spiky blond hair that almost screams “Hi!”

“and Luke” a blue-eyed boy that nods when he’s introduced.

Harry waves at each one and they start making conversation, first about this and that, then they start talking about what lessons they have that day and Harry is pleased to discover, from Zayn, that their first lesson will be physical education, with the rest of the year group.

The bell goes and the students are gone in a rush, flooding the small corridors and still talking incessantly.

As he leaves the classroom with Zayn and his group of friends, his tutor, mr Beorn, hands him his timetable for the week, he thanks the man and follows Zayn.

Maybe school won’t be so bad after all.

“You coming curly?” Zayn calls, as Harry notices he’s a bit behind. He’s already disorientated in the labyrinth of corridors of his new school so he doesn’t wanna get lost. He quickens his pace and reaches Niall and Zayn at the front of the group.

“Whatcha got first thing after, Harry?” Niall asks in a strong irish accent that makes Harry miss Britain a little bit more.

Harry reads his timetable outloud in a thoughtful tone: “Ugh let’s see… PE, Chemistry, Physics and English”

Niall’s rounded face, changes shape to express how sorry he feels about Harry’s horrible timetable “Oh man… two sciences in one day” He then lets out a sigh, thankful he has a luckier fate and pats Harry on the shoulder. “Who do you have?” Zayn asks.

“It says RH for Physics and OE for Chemistry”

“Richard Head and Ornella Etternburg” Zayn clearly explains, before he’s interrupted by Niall throwing a giggling fit.

“What’s so funny?” He asks, genuinely confused.

“Nothing” Zayn explains, “Niall finds your physics teacher’s name extremely funny, he can’t stop laughing every time someone mentions Mr Head”

In between tears, Niall tries to explain what caused his amusement: “Richard…. Dick…. HAHAHAHA Excuse me Mr…. HAHAHAHA DICK…. HEAD…” He manages to fumble through the incontrollable laughter. It’s Harry’s turn to laugh now.

They are almost at the end of the stairs that lead to the courtyard, and Zayn explain this is where they always head before PE, to take the buses that’ll lead them to a sport facility outside of school, depending on what activity they are doing. This term it’s aquatics and Harry, being a great swimmer and a great appreciator of beauty, as he defines himself, naturally is excited, even though this morning, without a costume, he’ll just have to devote himself to his observer activity as an appreciator of “beauty”.

As he is caught up in his thoughts, he almost doesn’t see the boy that speeds past him and they collide, before the stranger runs off murmuring a “Sorry”.

 

* * *

 

 

Louis shuffles around the art room, lifting boxes, moving chairs and magazines. He just can't find the paints, he already looked in the usual place in the cupboard by the window and sink, they must have been moved.

When he is just about to give up, he notices the blue container on top of the bookcase; who's the idiot that would put paints there, he thinks to himself. He reaches out with one hand, then tiptoes and outstretches his arm once again but he simply can't reach. He sighs and then, praying that no one will come in to see him making a fool of himself, he starts jumping to reach the paints.

"Need a hand with those?" A tall woman asks from the doorway,

"Ah... uh yes please" Louis admits flushing.

She’s quite young, around her 40s, with straight brown hair and blue eyes. "I'm Miss Cock, but I'd think it would be best you simply called me Anne, considering the witty remarks some students might come up with, hearing my surname" She smiles at that, a warm smile that stretches to her eyes and Louis thinks he likes her.

"Are you the new art teacher... Anne?" He inquires shyly, feeling a bit weird about addressing her with her first name.

"Yes, that's me, it's actually my first day teaching in a high school, I've always only taught in Universities" She explains.

The conversation continues, and Louis discovers he enjoys talking to Anne and the questions come naturally to both.

Anne discovers Louis is an art student and that he enjoys portraits the most, but the school's old art teacher, a scrawny man that always seemed to have his panties in a bundle, as Louis described him, was uninterested in the subject and didn't really teach much art at all in lessons. Anne on the other hand has two children, one of which has just joined the school and is in Louis' year, detail that of course Louis has not shared, and she herself is a portrait artist.

They spend an hour or so talking and Louis shows her his sketchbooks and the canvas he's working on.

"I can't seem to get the skin tone right, it's either too pinky or too green" Louis confesses.

Anne pulls three tubes of paint out of the box, and examines them carefully "Are these the paints you're using?" She asks.

"Yes, why?" 

"You are using the wrong type of red, you see it says Carmine red, but it should be Cadmium Red, which has slightly more of the yellow pigment in it"

Louis is impressed by Anne's knowledge and he smiles thankfully.

"I hope you don't mind if I start unpacking my things and organizing the room as I like it while you work?"

"No go ahead, I'm going to do some painting"

Louis is painting a piece inspired by Frida Kahlo, one of his favourite artists, on the canvas a girl stares straight ahead in the centre and all around her flowers bloom from her dress in different tones of red and purple. Anne is immediately very impressed by Louis' skills in art, considering he had had a terrible teacher for many years, she is surprised he can blend the paint so well and draw faces with such realism. It’s his drawings that particularly stun her, every detail is captured with a simple pencil: he showed her an observational drawing of a glass and the reflection inside it was brought alive by strong decisive lines and highlights, that made her want to reach out and pick it up.

There’s a light-hearted atmosphere in the art room, it’s a hive of activity, Louis is happily adding red tones to his almost finished oil painting as Anne swiftly moves in between tables emptying big brown boxes scattered on the floor. She pulls out book after book, a seemingly never ending flow of knowledge from the boxes to her hands, and onto the shelves of the old white bookcase.

Louis wishes he could spend the day in there, painting, laughing at Anne’s bad jokes, that she occasionally uses to provoke Louis’ smile, all while learning from her. To an outsider they might seem like old friends, working side by side peacefully.

Suddenly, the long hand of the clock above Louis’ head, strikes twenty past ten and the shrill ringing of the bell answers.

Time is up

Louis waves to Anne after tidying his desk, she smiles back;

“See you soon Louis!”

And then he is running again, from the noise and the stares, but he is caught in the crowd, unable to see past the head of the tall boy in front of him.

_There are moments of existence when time and space are more profound,_

_And the awareness of existence is immensely heightened_

_C.Baudelaire_


End file.
